Quiver

Embarrassment, Vivien #2

I'm not perfect. I never have been, never will be, I don't ever want to be perfect. My parents want otherwise, but that's fine, I've accepted it. At least I thought it did. I didn't think it bothered me too much anymore. But I guess I've been trying to be perfect too. I don't know why. It's subconscious I suppose. I take a lot of pride in what I've fought for. I hit rock bottom and climbed my way up, I did the impossible. I went from an unstable suicidal depressed girl to a happy one. It's my greatest accomplishment. I think it got to my ego. So what if I'm not always happy? So what if I'm mostly better, but I still have issues and growing room? The amount of disgust I feel in those words say it all. I'm strong, I'm happy. I can get through anything on my own. I don't need help from anyone. That's why I resist even basic comfort. I don't need it. I'm fine. Unless I'm not. Which is excessively embarrassing. I'm not suicidal, I want to live a long life. I'm not harming myself. I'm not reliving flashbacks, god I don't miss those. I can handle my anxiety, but it's getting in the way of my life. I don't know how to make it better. So maybe I do need help. How humbling. I've had two other problems. I've never told anyone about it, they're among the few secrets I have left. I don't know how to make them better. But I can do it because I'm strong. It doesn't matter if I struggle or not, I will get through it. That I'm certain of. I don't talk about it because it's so embarrassing! I'm not perfect and I hate it! I'm sad and I hate it! I keep having panic attacks that I can't control and I hate it! I keep crying and I hate it! Days ago I was happy. I don't know what went wrong. I can't admit to anyone and hell, barely myself without the voice at the back of my head whispering "Don't be an embarrassment, Vivien." Being weak and vulnerable and not okay is so embarrassing. I am an embarrassment.